Page 32 of Scout Takes the Lead
Help him with his dollhouse.
That evening, I hunted around my apartment for scraps of fabric, and I put them with my portable sewing kit. Then I texted him, “Why don’t I bring dinner to your place tomorrow night?” He sent back two red hearts almost immediately.
I had training clients back-to-back almost all day, but I had time right before dinner to drive over to the fried chicken place and get a bucket for us to share. Then I showed up at his door with the food, my sewing kit, and a treat for Scout. His house was an old bungalow from the 1950s, on a street of similar homes. The front yard was gravel, but he’d placed a line of tropical plants alongside the driveway. His car was under the carport, and there was a pegboard wall of tools hung beside it.
He opened the door and smiled, and Scout went down on his front paws in the play position. I kissed Alex hello and then rubbed behind Scout’s ears.
The living room was simply furnished, with a couch and a kitchen table and chairs, and a bookcase along one wall. I could tell Alex had cleaned up the little house in expectation of my visit and I was pleased by that.
“That chicken smells delicious,” Alex said. He led me to the table, which he’d set with mismatched china and silverware, probably from the thrift shop.
“Your mom was Puerto Rican, right?” he asked, as we sat down at his table. “Do you speak Spanish?”
I shook my head. “Not very well. My father didn’t like to be left out, so we couldn’t speak Spanish at home, and I only learned what they taught in school. I can speak enough to help someone with their dog. Abajo is down, siéntate is sit, and so on.”
I reached over and ruffled the dog’s fur. “¡Buen perro! Muy bien.”
Scout smiled, and with Alex’s permission I gave him a piece of one of the rolls. We each grabbed chicken from the bucket and started to eat. After a while, I asked, “Are you still having episodes?”
He nodded. “I had one last night. But Scout was right there, licking my face, and I felt better almost immediately.”
“This person you’re seeing at the VA, is he a counselor as in therapist? Or someone who’s helping you adjust to the non-military world?”
“A bit of both. He has a degree in counseling, and he’s been giving me homework assignments to help me assimilate. That’s how I met Akimbo at the coffee shop. D’eriq told me I had to go somewhere like a bar or a restaurant and engage in conversation with the server.”
“Was that hard?”
He shrugged. “I can talk to people once I know them. I have this fear that someone will look at me and think I’m crazy.”
“Because of the episodes? Do they come on without warning?”
“They do. Even here in the house if there’s a loud noise outside. But I’m getting better. I used to wake up three or four times in the middle of the night, sweaty and frightened. But with Scout, I can sleep through the night.” He laughed. “I used to do most of my customer calls in the early morning because I couldn’t get back to sleep. My manager liked having me online then. Now I’m on a more regular schedule.”
“And is that okay?”
“I’m good at figuring out what’s wrong with a client’s account,” I said. “Now that I’ve had some time to get familiar with the system. So my average time online with a client has been dropping, and he’s happy about that.”
“Have you ever thought about seeing a psychiatrist or a psychologist?” I asked.
He shook his head. “A psychiatrist just wants to solve your problems with pills, and I don’t need any more of those. D’eriq referred me to a psychologist, but all she wanted to do was talk about my experience in the war. It was almost like she was a war junkie.”
“That sounds like exposure therapy,” I said. “Kind of like what I’ve been doing with you and Scout.”
“Exactly. And I’d much rather work with you than with a therapist.”
After we ate, we settled down on his living room floor to work on the dollhouse together. He handed me a tiny bed he’d made himself, and I measured it and cut sheets out of an old handkerchief. Then I began working on a quilt for it, sewing together small square patches in a log cabin pattern my father’s mother had taught me when I was little.
We worked together very well, sharing bits and pieces of our background as he glued and I sewed. It was so nice and warm. I couldn’t remember any time I’d spent with Garrett that was so simple and yet fulfilling. When I finished the quilt, we made the bed with the sheets and the quilt. “It needs pillows,” I said. “I can make you a couple. I have a sewing machine at my apartment. I can put some cotton balls together and sew a hem around the edges.”
“We make a good team,” Alex said. “That’s something I learned in the military. It takes all kinds of different talents to create a working squad.”
I stood up. “This was fun, but I have an early client tomorrow.”
He stood too. “That’s fine. I need to take Scout out for his walk. Then I might put a couple of hours in until I feel tired.” We kissed goodnight, and it felt sweet, but also comfortable. Loving Alex was like falling into a big feather bed. I just had to make sure not to fall too far until I knew him better.
17: Progress: Alex
When I began seeing D’eriq, he gave me a list of skills I could practice to help me overcome my PTSD. I had to recognize that my anxiety was a normal physical response which could be reprogrammed.
